


Dreams I’m Not Supposed To Dream

by AtLeastWeWontBeLonelyInHell



Category: The Mentalist
Genre: Drama, F/M, dark themes, dark&twisty, re-post from 2013
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-29
Updated: 2013-12-29
Packaged: 2019-10-11 03:28:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,403
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17439083
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AtLeastWeWontBeLonelyInHell/pseuds/AtLeastWeWontBeLonelyInHell
Summary: She wants to go back to work, but Patrick wants her to stay with their kids instead.That’s what a mother is supposed to do, he tells her one night. That’s what his first wife did. And before she knows it they’re fighting about Angela again. Her ghost still lingering in the corners of their home.





	Dreams I’m Not Supposed To Dream

**Author's Note:**

> And a BIG special thank you goes to the wonderful clairebare for beta reading!

**Dreams I’m Not Supposed To Dream**

**.**

**.**

It happens a few months after they start working with the FBI.

Teresa gets kidnapped by a serial killer and once again her life is hanging in a balance. But of course Patrick finds her in time and she makes it out alive. In the end she doesn’t even have a scratch.

When he helps her up from the dirty basement floor, he looks at her like he’s seen a ghost. She wants to ask him what’s wrong, when he pulls her into his arms. He tells her that he loves her, that he’s loved her for so long that he doesn’t even remember when it started. That he wants to be with her now and forever.

She stares at him disbelievingly, stunned and a little dizzy. Maybe she’s just hyped up, but the next thing she knows her lips are on his and they’re kissing like their lives depend on it. Maybe it does.

It’s Christmas Eve when he asks her to marry him. They’re sitting side by side under the Christmas tree, his blue eyes beaming with life and joy.

And all she can do is tell him yes.

Patrick gets her the fairytale wedding she dreamed of when she was a child. She’s even wearing a beautiful white dress that makes her look like Cinderella herself.

Virgil walks her to the altar and Grace and Wayne’s daughter is the flower girl, wearing a cute pink dess and throwing rose petals. Ben carries their wedding rings and Cho is Patrick’s best man, wearing a three-piece suit and disappearing with one of Teresa’s bridesmaids after the ceremony.

Teresa gives birth to twins ten months after their honeymoon. Two boys with dark curly hair and eyes as blue as the ocean. And for the first time she feels truly happy.

Patrick sells his house in Malibu and buys them a beautiful house in Austin with a white picket fence and a black SUV in the front yard.

She stays at home with the kids while he chases bad guys. She makes baby formula and changes diapers, while he flies around the country with Agent Fisher closing case after case.

Of course, Sex on the kitchen table is out of the question, as well as almost everywhere else in the house. They’re adults, they’re parents. They’re supposed to do it in the bedroom, right? And if that makes them boring, who cares.

They have a little girl a year after the boys and another girl a year later. Both of them with blonde hair and emerald green eyes. And Teresa is sure she couldn’t be happier.

She talks about organic food at school, rushes from football games to violin lessons and to ballet practice. Heads back to swim lessons with her youngest right after that.

She’s busy doing the laundry and baking cookies, reading bedtime stories and looking happy every morning when she makes sandwiches.

Soon sex is something she only gets to witness on tv. She’s far too tired when Patrick gets home at night and even when she’s not, everything he does is wrong and she has to take care of her own needs in the shower by herself.

And suddenly she can’t help missing her old life. Chasing serial killers in dark alleys, hunting down monsters day and night.

She finds herself sobbing in the laundry room more and more often, praying the kids won’t hear her. Parents aren’t supposed to cry in front of their kids. And the thought they could find out makes her sob even harder.

The kids get bigger and so do their problems. Sometimes she wonders why she wanted this life in the first place. She raised her brothers, she should have known better. She watched her parents drift apart. She should have known that would happen sooner or later.

She wants to go back to work, but Patrick wants her to stay with their kids instead.

That’s what a mother is supposed to do, he tells her one night. That’s what his first wife did. And before she knows it they’re fighting about Angela again. Her ghost still lingering in the corners of their home.

Sometimes Teresa can’t help but wonder if Angela had been with him only for the money. Maybe. What else could she have done as an ex-con woman?

Soon fighting is the only thing they do together, Christmas gets a phrase as well as birthdays parties and the only thing Teresa wants is a divorce. But where the hell should she go without a job and four little kids in tow?

She wouldn’t even make it out the front door.

She feels like her sixteen year old self stuck in a life she doesn’t want to live. Stuck with kids she would die for and still wishes she could run away from. She thinks about leaving, packing up her things and going as far away as possible and leaving the kids with Patrick.

He’s a good father after all, he would manage on his own and the kids love him more than her anyway. They would choose him over her in a heartbeat. And she can’t even blame them.

She did the same. That’s what got her in this mess in the first place.

But she already knows he would come after her, would find her anyway. And so she stays. Pretends to be someone she isn’t. It’s what she chose to do when she kissed him back the first time. And it’s what she has to go through with, no matter if she wants it or not.

She keeps screaming in her pillow at night, dreams about chasing serial killers. Wishing Red John would have killed her in that house. Wishing she could end it now.

Prozac becomes her best friend, the only thing that keeps her going. She hides it in the basement between the Christmas decorations, like she’s seen it on TV. Patrick wouldn’t approve if he knew she needed pills to keep that smile on her face, so she doesn’t tell him.

It’s not difficult to hide from him anymore, most nights he stays on the couch instead of their bed and they only talk to each other in front of the kids. Trying their best to keep up the life they’re supposed to live.

But the truth is, they’re too different.

One night she stays up late, waits in the kitchen until he comes back home from work. It’s around midnight and she’s drunk, her words slurred when she welcomes him. And he looks disgusted.

She pushes him back against the wall, tries to tear his zipper open when he grabs her wrists angrily. And she can’t help but laugh.

She tells him how pathetic he is, how pathetic they both are and how fucked up their life is.

That Red John should have killed them years ago. That they should be buried six feet underground and not ruining the life of four innocent children.

He just stares at her and she can’t help shaking her head. He doesn’t even have a clue what she’s talking about.

He tells her to go to bed, tells her he won’t talk to her until she’s sober. Leaving her alone in the kitchen, when he makes his way upstairs.

Teresa isn’t sure how long she looks after him before she grabs her car keys and leaves the house.

She’s on her way home from the grocery store a few minutes later, ice cream and wine in the back of the car when her phone starts to ring. And she can’t stop herself from laughing. Already aware of what he’s going to tell her if she takes the call.

He’s so predictable. Their life is a mess.

Maybe that’s the reason she doesn’t take the exit she should and keeps driving instead. Listening to her phone ringing until the battery dies. Ice cream melting on the backseat.

She keeps thinking about the woman she was until tears start to blur her vision. Her head hurts and she’s barely able to keep her eyes open. She knows she should pull over, knows she shouldn’t keep driving in her state. But she doesn’t even slow down.

She keeps driving for hours, keeps driving until her eyes fall shut. The morning sun streaming through the windshield and kissing her closed lids as her car hits the bridge.

**.**

**.**


End file.
